Despite the padding around the interrogation room, the muted tones of sirens could still be heard intermittently. Mr.Smith sat at the table, hands cuffed behind his back. Across from him sat Palmers, the woman assigned to the case concerning the death of Peter, a close friend of Smiths, and her boyfriend for the past 6 years.

Before Palmers can ask, the words are already coming out of his mouth.

"I did it. I killed Peter." A surprisingly gruff voice confessed, emotionlessly.

It seemed so simple. Palmers knew she could have stopped the case right there. She had the audio logs, a self-confession when under no pressure would have been considered conclusive as hell.

Still, she didn't think that it was something as simple as that.

"Mr.Smith?"

"Yes?"

"Are you ready to talk?"

"Oh, like either of us give a shit. I committed the crime, I killed Peter. This whole thing is completely pointless, you're just wasting your shitty serum," He answered again, frustrated.

"Alright. As pointless as it seems, I'll be injecting the truth serum now."

Palmer leans over her desk, pressing a few buttons on her keyboard. The robotic arm looming over the Smith's head slowly leans closer to him and slowly inserts a needle into his neck.

"So, how does it feel Mr.Smith? You ready to talk?" She repeats.

"I was talking. I had saved you the trouble of wasting your million dollar syrup. I said it, and I'll say it again. I'm the reason Peter's dead."

She doesn't respond.

"Do you want a confession or something?" He continues, exasperated, moving his shackled shoulders in a shrugging gesture.

"I don't want anything, Smith. I just want the damn truth." She asks, her voice nearly breaking.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"And there it is. I am the reason Peter died. I fully deserve the death penalty in its entirety." He states, matter-of-factly.

"I still need to know then. Why did you do it?"

"Because I am quite clearly a monster who will take advantage of those around him for his own gain, what's not to understand?"

"So, how did you kill him? Are you saying you're the one who pushed off the edge of the building?"

"Yep." A quick reply, no doubt or resistance, it flowed out of him easily.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Why aren't your prints on his clothes?"

"I didn't push him with my hands." Smith fires back, stating a fact.

"Why did you turn yourself in?"

"Survivors guilt?" Smith answers, this time unsure.

"Bullshit."

"Bingo, I wanted to die this way."

"Tell me why."

"I'd rather not."

"TELL ME!" Palmers screamed, finally breaking. She couldn't keep up the dispassionate professional act up any longer.

"Because killers deserve the death sentence, right?"

"Did you kill him?"

"Yes."

"On purpose?"

Choking noises erupt from Smith until at last, the words force their way painfully out of his mouth.

"No."

"Ah. I see the issue now." Palmers leans over her desk once more, doubling his dose of serum. She hadn't factored in how pathological liars could get away with a higher dose than normal.

"Let's try again. What are the exact circumstances of Peter's death."

"He jumped."

"And?"

"I couldn't stop him. He had known about my... issues with my family for a while now. He had decided one day to try to talk them out of the constant harassment, and -" Smith breaks off, tears forming in his eyes. He doesn't get to stop for long though, the serum forcing him to continue.

"they decided that he was a juicier target. Every single day he showed up to work with scars, bruises, things he refused to explain. I followed him one day and saw it. And guess what a piece of shit does when they see their best friend getting beat up in a parking lot? They just sit and watch, like the bastards they - I, am." He says, forcing the words out of his own mouth, still resisting the serum.

"And when he jumped?"

"The abuse had gone too far. They started attacking his family. He begged them to stop. They told him they would stop if he jumped, and he did." Smith tries to stop himself, but the tears leak from his eyes. "I couldn't stop him."

Palmers stared at him. With a sigh, she raised her last question. The truth serum had worn off.

"And your family? What happened to them?" Palmer softly questioned.

"They left town. Knew that I would admit they did it." He answered quickly, voice confident, absent of emotion.

"Alright. Well, your an innocent man Smith, and I'm-" Her voice brakes, tears finally breaking free from behind her eyes. "- I'm a single woman. Goodbye and good day."

As Smith strode out of the police station, he stared at the graveyard across the street. Somewhere over there, Peter was being buried.

"Well, thanks, Peter. I guess I'm not a criminal, just like you said. After all, killing rats isn't a crime is it?" He chuckled, imagining his family awaiting him in hell.